Once you've seen it all once I bet you'll wish you were watching "Groundhog Day" -- again.

Enemy at the Gates is a disappointment primarily because it seems so rich with possibilities.

Utterly charming.

Starts out as a lark, but veers into grittier, more emotionally complex territory -- just like a real relationship -- that the film doesn't have the chops to sustain.

It's the type of film that begs to be called “charming” and by doing so instead ends up grating.

Herzfeld also wrote the screenplay, and so its leaden and obvious tone and the resulting dearth of delicacy rests squarely on him.

Ao relentlessly, gleefully dumb -- without being the slightest bit sardonic -- that you just can't help but guffaw … or groan … but probably both.

A limp and lackluster affair that telegraphs its feel-good smarm miles in advance.

The film probably won't draw in audiences who aren't already fans of the quirky, subtitled pastoral, but it's more than worth a look.

The fictionalization of their journey is simply not that engrossing, nor are their alter egos, with their tightly scripted character arcs.

Christian filmmaking has entered a new phase in which its creators have discovered how to soft-pedal their message under wraps of a conventional story.

The script is simultaneously boring and breathlessly busy, and it really gives Arquette a beating, as scene after scene subjects him to electrocution, dog attack, encasement in bubble wrap, public pantlessness, assault by the hearing-impaired, a fishbowl on the head, and gluteal paralysis caused by poisonous sea urchins.

Plenty of killings abound, nevertheless the film is a masterful -- albeit warped -- love-story-cum-road-movie that revolves around three of the most invigorating performances of the year.

The movie's bright touches belong primarily to Brooke Smith.

Selick is widely and rightly regarded as a master of surreal, dark humor, and wildly inventive animation technique, and Monkeybone is the first tarnish on his otherwise spotless reputation.

The end result is overkill en extremis. There is such a thing as too much. And 3KMTG is much too much.

It's impossible to shake the feeling that these are merely actors -- albeit good ones.

Deadly dull tripe.

Proving once again that no matter how many times you remake a film it's tough to top the original.

Get out your handkerchiefs. No, scratch that -- get out a pair of windshield wipers and staple them to your brow. Perhaps they'll obscure the screen.

The film never gets too far beyond disposable youth fare, best consumed like mouthfuls of sugary cereal.

Misfires on so many levels that we have to wonder if there is more than one meaning to this story's wild boars.

Reaches toward new heights of comic laziness and succeeds beyond anyone's wildest expectations.

The entire cast is marvelous and capable of conveying continents of emotion with a furtive smile or arched brow.

Valentine succeeds only in boring you to death.

Head Over Heels whitewashes the originality and, well, weirdness Waters showed in his first film, although it's impossibe to imagine anything starring young poster-pups Potter and Prinze Jr. could be particularly edgy.

The loosely scripted story is further burdened with clunky dialogue and performances, shoddy continuity.

A stylistic tour de force, one that wordlessly emotes and wears its emotions on its literal silk sleeves.